


Parsing the Meaning of Love

by My_Alter_Ego



Series: Holidays [10]
Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: A Valentine's Day Fiction, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29375847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Alter_Ego/pseuds/My_Alter_Ego
Summary: Neal tries to figure out the meaning of true love. Finally, he thinks he has found it quite close to home.
Series: Holidays [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025623
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Parsing the Meaning of Love

It was February in New York City—blustery and frigidly cold with the promise of a let up still months off. There was no hint of the riotous color of spring blooms in the small parks and window boxes. The only garish hues appeared on the city’s billboards extolling the upcoming holiday of Valentine’s Day. The consumer merchandising industry down on 47th Street’s Diamond Row made sure there was an abundant display of red hearts and Cupids with insipid tag lines like, _“Give Her What She Really Wants,”_ and _“Romance Is In the Air.”_

Neal didn’t want to be cynical, but he wondered if this over-the-top hype wasn’t a desperate attempt by jewelry brokers to bolster a flagging trend. It seemed like becoming engaged was almost an archaic tradition. Nowadays, tempted parties wanted to cohabit before making a commitment—sort of like taking a car out for a test drive before actually making a purchase. Not that familiarity about each other’s best or worst traits would make a difference, but, in the long run, it may have saved big bucks if divorce was the only option to erase an error in judgment.

Neal found himself on the fence about the meaning of true love and long lasting devotion. Some days he spent his leisure time in Central Park watching all manner of humanity stroll by. He saw young people, probably not much more than teens, holding hands and making out with abandon, defying anyone to tell them to stop. He saw mothers and fathers with kids in strollers walking, shoulder to shoulder, sending each other affectionate little smiles. There were also male and female joggers keeping pace with each other, neither trying to outshine their partner. The most poignant couples were the elderly, who walked, slowly and sedately, beside someone who had probably been right by their side for decades.

Of course, Neal wasn’t blind. He had also witnessed a fair share of nasty interactions. There were the occasional lovers’ quarrels boisterously enacted on a public stage for everyone to see, as well as male and female combatants getting in a slap to make a point, or hoisting a middle finger in antipathy. Maybe those enemies of the moment would later come to regret their actions, or maybe they wouldn’t. It just added mystery to the world, and Neal found he didn’t much care about the outcome, one way or the other.

Instead, Neal wanted to figure out what was going on in his own world. Thinking back to his days with Kate, enough time had passed that he could be more objective. He now was willing to acknowledge that he had been young and infatuated with his first romantic encounter. He had given his heart away willingly as he and Kate played their own game of house. He wanted it to be forever, and he loved her with all the intensity that a callow boy in his twenties could muster. He wanted to believe she loved him just as ardently, and his devotion to her grew as she faithfully visited him, week after week, during his incarceration. Maybe, because she had died before their deep connection was allowed to flourish or flounder, she’d always remain the love of his life.

As he had matured, Neal had forced himself to move on. Life was for living, not wallowing in the angst of what could have been. He thought he had loved Sara Ellis, and that was a more mature as well as realistic emotion on both their parts. There were no blinders on, so it was a matter of accept me as I am because I can’t change who and what you see. Well, that certainly hadn’t sustained the test of time.

Then there had been trusting and sweet Maya, but that couldn’t have been love because Neal had left her behind quite readily on an island paradise. And he didn’t even want to think about Rachel Turner and that fiasco.

On February 14th, Neal walked into June’s mansion with a lush bouquet of yellow roses in his hand. “These are for you, dear lady,” Neal smiled at his benefactress affectionately.

June smiled back at him. “Did you know there is a tradition surrounding the color of roses?” she asked her favorite young man.

“I do,” Neal informed her. “Yellow roses symbolize remembrance, so I’m giving these to you in Byron’s stead.”

“I did so adore that man,” the older woman murmured as her eyes took on a sheen.

Neal put his arm around June’s shoulder. “I know you did, and what the two of you had makes me hopeful that true love really does exist.”


End file.
